Chapter II: Part 2

"It's my heavy boots," was the thought which flashed like lightning through his brain; and thanks to their size, he slipped them off one at a time, coming to the surface just as it seemed to him that his lungs were about to burst through holding his breath so long. Dashing the water from his eyes, he struck out manfully, yet with a sense of utter hopelessness, when his hand struck the grating, to which he clung convulsively. He saw rockets and blue-lights thrown up from the ship's deck, and shouted himself hoarse, for the _Emerald_ was not a cable's-length distant.

But as he felt an awful numbing chill steal over him, against which he vainly struggled, he was dragged in over the bow of the _Emerald_'s boat by the nervous arms of the bow oar--Mr. Ephraim Jackson.

"Darned if he ain't lost them boots a'ready!" exclaimed Eph, as the insensible boy was laid face down in the bottom of the boat.

Well, through God's mercy and Mr. Kendall's skill, they reached the ship in safety, but Eph--or indeed any of the boat's crew--will never forget the terrible pull, or how near they were being crushed by the ship's side in taking the boat inboard.

Ned was rubbed, filled to the throat with hot coffee, and stowed away in his bunk, so that by morning he was all right again, but, to his great joy, was excused from further duty, the ship being now off old Boston Light.

"You saved my life, Eph," says Ned, gratefully, as in high glee the two boys begin to pack their chests in readiness for going ashore, "and how shall I ever repay you?"

There was no mock modesty about Eph Jackson. "It ain't wuth mentionin'," looking up from his work, "but seem' 's you make so much of it, if you're a mind to buy me a pair o' new rubber boots, we'll call it square."

Which Ned afterward does, and, better still, invites Eph home to stay until the ship is again ready for sea; for Captain Elton has offered to take him as able seaman on the next voyage. A year later, and Mr. Jackson is second mate of the _Emerald_.

"Them rubber boots," he remarks aloud, as he incloses a money order for fifty dollars to his proud mother--"them rubber boots was a lucky New-Year's present for me."

"And for me too, Eph," smilingly returns Ned Rand, who stands close by.

BITS OF ADVICE.

BY AUNT MARJORIE PRECEPT.

AT THE MATINÉE.

"Oh, Aunt Marjorie," cried Susie, "we're going to the matinée."

"Well," said I, "I hope you'll enjoy it. I did not enjoy the last one I attended; but it was not my own fault, nor that of the performers."

"Whose fault was it?" asked Susie.

"Just behind me," I replied, "sat two well-dressed, fine-looking young people. What do you think they did through all the sweet music--solos, arias, quartettes, and choruses? Why, they simply talked and laughed. Sometimes they whispered, sometimes they giggled, sometimes they conversed audibly. People around them were terribly annoyed; but they did not seem to care how much they disturbed their neighbors.

"I have been told, Susie dear," I went on to say, "that among the Japanese it is part of a young lady's education to be taught to chatter, that is, to talk of little things gracefully. These American young people chatter without having been taught the art. The trouble was, they did not know when to keep still."

"I hope, Aunt Marjorie," said Susie, "that you do not think that I would act as those ill-bred creatures did."

"I am sure you would not, my dear," I replied. "But it grieves me that so many boys and girls, from mere want of thought, whisper and laugh in public places, where their doing so is a trespass on the rights of others, and a great annoyance to speakers and performers."

THE QUEEN OF HEARTS.

DRAWN BY R. CALDECOTT.

The Queen of Hearts,
She made some Tarts,
All on a Summer's Day:

The Knave of Hearts,
He stole those Tarts,

And took them right away.

The King of Hearts,

Called for those Tarts,

And beat the Knave full sore.

The Knave of Hearts,
Brought back those Tarts,
And vowed he'd steal no more.

RATON, NEW MEXICO.

I am going to write to HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, to tell about the
great traveller, Mr. Du Chaillu. Papa, mamma, and I met him in
Raton as we were going to the depot. He is not at all like what I
thought an author would be. I thought he would be tall, but he is
very short. He seemed very funny to me, and he was very pleasant to
papa and mamma. He talked about his books, and other things too.
Papa gave him a number of the _Athenæum_, an English periodical,
which had in it a review of the _Land of the Midnight Sun_, with
which he seemed very much pleased. When he left he said he would
pay us a visit on his return next spring. He had been with Mr.
Berghman in a train to the tunnel through the mountains going to
Colorado, to take pictures for the book he is going to write about
the Rocky Mountains. A banquet was given in honor of Mr. Du Chaillu
by the Raton Literary Society, and papa attended it.

S. GEORGIANA M.

You will always be glad that you had the opportunity of meeting the genial traveller and story-teller, whose books will be the more interesting to you now that you have seen their author. And though you were only eight years old when you had this pleasure, perhaps you will live long enough to tell your grandchildren about it when you shall be ten times eight.

* * * * *

SPRINGFIELD, OHIO.

I am nine years old. I have a pony named Flora; she is fond of cake
and sugar. I drive her to a cart. I also have a pet cat; her name
is Tittens. She has three kittens, but they are wild. Then I have a
bird named Dick; he is almost as old as I am. I have taken HARPER'S
YOUNG PEOPLE since it was first published, and like it very much.

JOHN L. B.

* * * * *

ST. JOHNS, MICHIGAN.

I thought, as I knew a good noisy game, I would write to YOUNG
PEOPLE, and tell the readers how to play it. It is called "Frog in
the Middle."

A player, selected by lot, sits on the carpet, while the others
form a circle round him, taking him unawares when his back is
turned, pulling him, pinching him, buffeting him, and pulling his
hair. When he succeeds in catching one of them, the captive must
change places with him. As the players dance and caper around the
frog they cry, "Frog in the middle--catch him who can!"

ROBERT G. S.

Is not Frog in the Middle rather too boisterous a game for the parlor? Is there no danger that the hair-pulling and buffeting may become too earnest for fun, and that there may be crying as well as laughing among the players? Please send us descriptions of quiet games as well as of noisy ones. We know that boys love noise; but somehow we always think that noise should be kept out-doors, where there is room for it.

* * * * *

NEVADA, MISSOURI.

I am a little boy five years old, and my mamma buys YOUNG PEOPLE
for me every week. I like it very much, and the funny pictures in
it. I can read nicely in my Second Reader, and can write small
words, though not well enough to write a letter, but will before I
am six years old. (Mamma is writing this for me.) I am staying with
my little cousin Berkeley; he has a canary-bird (Hattie), and I
have one (Dick). I call Berkeley my little brother, because he is
all his mamma has, and so am I all my mamma has. I have two more
little boy cousins in Kansas--Fred and Luther--and one more in
Philadelphia; his name is Joe. We have no girl cousins at all; we
think it would be a change to have one. We get tired of all boys,
but we are all going to try to be good men. Mamma reads me all the
things in YOUNG PEOPLE that I can understand. I like Jimmy Brown
best. Please print this for me, because I can read it. I am going
to start to school next Monday. I have been to New York, and often
been through Franklin Square.

EUGENE W.

* * * * *

NORTHFIELD, IOWA.

I am a little boy five feet ten inches high, weigh 160 pounds, and
am over sixty-one years of age. I do not go to school any more,
only to Sunday-school. I take and read all of HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE, and think it is all first-class, only in the stories of
"Toby Tyler" and "Tim and Tip" there is too much fondness of the
boys--one for the dirty old monkey, and the other for the dirty
little dog. Why, just think of it!--a boy sleeping with a dirty old
monkey or dog in his arms, and having his face and hands licked by
it, and he kissing one or the other of them, as though it were a
nice clean baby! The thought is enough to make one sick.

HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE has begat in the other children of the family
a greater love for reading than all the other papers they ever
read.

A. D.

There is nothing that gives us greater satisfaction than to receive the commendations of boys like yourself. Some boys and girls never grow old, and we are sure you belong to the number. But you will pardon us if we enter a protest against your condemnation of Toby and Tim. Under the circumstances in which those poor little lads found themselves, they would have been starved for lack of love and companionship but for their dumb friends; and what so natural as that they should caress the faithful animals, and take them in their arms when sleep brought forgetfulness of trouble? A boy is not going very far astray when he finds pleasure in the affection of a dog, or even of a monkey, though we agree with you in keeping our own kisses for sweet child pets.

* * * * *

JEFFERSON COUNTY, KENTUCKY.

I am a little girl nine years old. I have a brother eight, and a
big sister fourteen, who has been at Shelbyville at school seven
years. I am in the Third Reader, and study at home, and have never
gone to school. I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much. I want you to
commence that piece about Mr. Stubbs's Brother. I have three cats
named Beauty, Punch, and Judy, and a large setter dog named Spot,
and he will lie by a dressed shoat all night, and let no one take
it. I go to Sunday-school every Sunday, through winter and summer,
over two miles, and contribute a nickel to buy papers.

ROSIE K. B.

You are a faithful girl to take that long walk to Sunday-school every week in all seasons. Who else has to go so far as Rosie?

* * * * *

MOUNT VERNON, NEW YORK.

I went to the Dolls' Reception in New York, and liked it very much.
I have a new baby doll that was bought there, and I call her Adele.
She has everything she needs to wear except a cloak. I have a
French doll; her name is Nettie. She was bought at the Dolls'
Reception last year. I have a rag doll as big as a child three
years old. I call her Clara Louise, after my Sunday-school teacher,
but she used to be Jemima. I have another baby doll, Lulu, and a
little French doll, Gracie, and "lots of little dolls." I love all
my dollies dearly. I am nearly six years old, and I can print, but
not write, so I have told mamma just what to write. I would like to
tell about my kitty, but will do that another time. I hope to see
my letter in the YOUNG PEOPLE.

AMIE H.

* * * * *

SWARTHMORE, PENNSYLVANIA.

I suppose you have heard of the burning of Swarthmore College. We
live just across the road from it, and a little while after the
fire broke out mamma took us out to see it. The sparks flew toward
our house, and we thought it would go too, but the slate roof saved
it. The students were rushing around, dragging furniture and
clothes. Oh, how frightened I was to see that great building in a
blaze, though it was a beautiful sight! The sparks fell in such
showers that we were afraid our dresses would catch fire. Some of
the dead branches of the big trees flamed up, and looked very
pretty. We were up all night, and a good many students came to our
house, and the next day people kept coming and going all day long.
It is very lonely now without the students.

I am ten years old. I like YOUNG PEOPLE very much.

LAURA B.

This is a letter from Laura's sister. It was printed beautifully:

I think I will write a letter to you. To-day my sister and I went
to a little brick house which is being built, and when we got there
Laura made a brick house, and I made a cake: and it began to rain,
and so we came home, and I thought I would write a letter to you.
We have two cats; one of them is black, white, and yellow. I am
seven years old.

CLARA D. B.

* * * * *

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA.

In the summer I was staying at Newtown, Pennsylvania, and there
were a number of Indians there from the training school at
Carlisle, Pennsylvania. They were sent to Newtown for the summer,
and one was staying opposite us, and one in the house with us. We
invited several of them to take tea with us, and after tea we went
out on the lawn, and had a game of bow and arrows, and they are all
experts in archery. For one of the girls my aunt dressed a doll,
and she was delighted with it. One of the girls, seventeen years
old, weighed 157 pounds; was not that heavy? One Sunday my aunt and
myself took four of the Indians to church. I think they understood
the service very well. One of the girls, Maggie S., taught me to
say, in the Indian language, "Be a good girl" and "Be a good boy,"
but as I do not know how to spell the words, I can not write them
for you. In my last letter I said I would exchange shells for
stamps, but my shells were soon exhausted, so I can not exchange
any more. I am eleven years old. I hope Jimmy Brown will write
another story soon.

JULIA M. PIERIE, 2403 Spruce Street.

* * * * *

The two little letters which follow were sent us by the teacher of Nettie and Phebe:

BLOOMFIELD, NEW JERSEY.

Every Tuesday morning my teacher sends one or two scholars up to
the Post-office to get HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. My teacher has taken
the paper ever since September, and all of us are glad when we see
the pretty green cover, and all of us try to be good all day, so
that we can take it home. I have just commenced writing with ink,
so please excuse my bad writing. Please publish this letter to
oblige

NETTIE K.

BLOOMFIELD, NEW JERSEY.

My teacher takes HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, and I think it is very
nice. I have a yellow cat. Papa has two yellow cats, and one stands
right up on its hind-legs. I go to Berkeley School, on Bloomfield
Avenue. I have not seen any letter yet from Bloomfield, so will you
please publish this letter. Please excuse writing, for I am just
beginning to write with ink.

PHEBE C.

Neither of you need have apologized for such distinct writing.

* * * * *

NEW YORK CITY.

I think those little country boys and girls who have never been in
the city would like to see our fire-engines and elevated railroads.

We have two pet cats at our house, one all white and the other all
black. The white cat's name is Nellie, and the black cat's name is
Nig. If I say to Nellie, "Kiss me," she will do so; and if I say to
Nig, "Give me your paw," she will obey me.

I saw some ragamuffins on Thanksgiving-day in a place that they
call the Fire Points, and they were very nice. They had a little
fellow dressed up in a monkey skin, and they had a platform built
on a horse's back, on which was an organ-grinder. Another horse was
led by a string from the monkey, and a great many very comical
figures were in the procession.

HENRY F.

It does not seem quite kind to speak of the poor children at the Five Points as ragamuffins, though we do not imagine that you intended any contempt of them. You were glad that they had a pleasant time, were you not?

* * * * *

ORANGE, NEW JERSEY.

When my grandmother was a little girl at school, she, with the
other girls, used to practice spelling the word
sis-ne-chris-to-var-van-pro-van-tim-tam-tire-live-mack-feign-well-squire
to help them in pronouncing syllables correctly. I wonder if any of
the readers of YOUNG PEOPLE know a longer word than that?
Arithmologantotype is another queer word.

L. L. H.

* * * * *

RUDY.--Many thanks for your little story about Dollie and her trials. We read it with great pleasure, and wish we could print it, but we have not room. It was a happy thought of yours to send Miss Dollie, after her ups and downs, and her life with the spoiled child Dune, to stay with that dear little Nellie, who had no other toys and no playmates, and of course took the new treasure right to her heart. Sometimes when we think of the girls who have rooms full of dolls, and then of the other girls who have no dolls at all, we wish we could pull a string somewhere and shake things into evenness. But that we can not do with a wish. Still, it may be that some of the fortunate little women will try for themselves how much happiness they can get by making others happy. We hope so.

* * * * *

Bessie D., in Lowell, Massachusetts, discovered a dandelion in bloom on December 9, and E. B. D., in Grand Rapids, Michigan, felt very happy when she found a pansy in her out-door garden December 10. Brave little flowers they are that dare to laugh in the very face of old winter in latitudes so cold.

* * * * *

DICK K.--We state for your benefit, and for that of other new subscribers, that the privilege of exchanging useful and interesting articles is extended to all readers of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE. The editor reserves the right of excluding certain things which are not regarded as legitimate for exchanging. Among these are birds' eggs and fire-arms. Articles which are offered for money, and are consequently for sale, do not belong to the exchange department, but are properly advertisements. It is the aim of the conductors of YOUNG PEOPLE to make the exchange department not only a means of entertainment and accommodation to correspondents, but also educational. The postmarks, stamps, pressed leaves, specimens, and curiosities sent by young collectors to each other are valuable object lessons in geography, history, and natural science.

* * * * *

C. Y. P. R. U.

A. B.--You ask why Holland is said to have been reclaimed from the sea. Holland is an abbreviation of Hollow-land. It is a low, flat country on the North Sea, and is composed mostly of deposits from the Rhine and other rivers, and of sand thrown up by the sea. Some parts of it are even lower than the sea itself; and to keep the water out, strong walls called dikes, made of great stones, timber, turf, and clay, have been built along the shores. The land was formerly very soft and swampy; but it has been filled up, or drawn out by hundreds of pumps, which are worked either by windmills or steam-engines. The water is pumped into canals, which take the place of streets, and the people go about on them in summer in little boats drawn by horses or by dogs, and in winter they travel merrily over the ice on skates, which men, women, and children use with ease and grace.

* * * * *

DEAR POSTMISTRESS,--My cousin Tom says he does not think you are a
real Postmistress, but only the Editor. He wouldn't wonder if you
were a man, for he says women don't know very much about affairs.
We have had a quarrel about it, and I made up my mind to ask you.
Papa says, "Always go to head-quarters when you want information."

BESSIE T.

Your cousin Tom is complimentary. Only the Editor! And thinks I am a man! I wish he could see the great basket of stockings I darn every week of my life, and taste the nice muffins and corn-bread I sometimes make after reading a bagful of letters from the C. Y. P. R. U. As for his disdain of women and their knowledge of affairs, I beg his pardon, and hope he is not related to a certain old fellow named Rip Van Winkle, who once fell asleep, and slept ever so many years, while the world went rolling on. Your papa is a sensible man. I am sure he did not agree with Tom.

* * * * *

Can the Postmistress tell a busy mother how to make a nice
wholesome pudding, which does not require eggs, and which the
children may eat without fear of indigestion.

H. I. T.

With pleasure. Take two cupfuls of Graham flour, one of molasses, and one of sour milk; one tea-spoonful of salt, two of soda, and one cupful of fruit. Flavor highly with cinnamon and cloves, and steam the pudding two hours, popping it into the oven finally just long enough to harden the crust. Serve hot, with clear sauce.

* * * * *

VERSES FOR AN ALBUM.--When I am asked to write in an album, I feel very much as my troubled little correspondent does. I wrinkle up my forehead, purse up my lips, and say to myself, "Dear me! what shall I write?" But I begin to think of the friend who has desired my name in her pretty little book, and I always conjure up something. How would this do for you?

The snow-flakes flutter from the sky,
Like merry little birds:
As fast as they my fond thoughts fly,
And still I have no words
To write for you my name above.
And so I'm only yours, with love.

* * * * *

A WOULD-BE CADET.--By writing to the Commandant at West Point you can obtain the information you wish. Inclose a stamped envelope addressed to yourself for his reply.

* * * * *

This week we have had prepared for the members of the C. Y. P. R. U., by a lady who has made a special study of queer inmates of the animal world, an article on "Sponges." It is beautifully illustrated with engravings and diagrams, and tells the story of these common but curious objects that puzzled the world so long as to whether they were really living creatures or simply plants. Then when this subject has been investigated, there is a capital article for boys and girls, by Mr. Hugh Craig, who throws a fresh light on what we fancy they think they know a great deal about already, that is "How to Play." "Aunt Marjorie" also reads us a dear little lecture on how to behave ourselves in public places, which some old people, as well as young people, might pay attention to with a good result.

* * * * *

YOUNG PEOPLE'S COT.

Contributions received for Young People's Cot in Holy Innocent's Ward, St. Mary's Free Hospital for Children, 407 West Thirty-fourth Street, New York:

Susie Morrill, Hiawatha, Kansas, $3; Addie C. Webb, Culleoka, Tenn., 8c.; Maud's gift (in memoriam), Bluehill, Me., $2.10; Walter Gray, Monmouth, Ill., 50c.; Fannie and Emma Pearson, Springfield, Ill., 50c.; Harry W. B., Savannah, Ga., 25c.; Carl and Harry Hutchins, Keene, N. H., $2; Ruby Wickersham, Alleghany City, 25c.; Leonard C. Richardson, Lincolnton, N. C., 25c.; Herby, Jenny, and Mary C. Willis, Brooklyn, 75c.; total, $9.68. Amount previously acknowledged, $191.71; grand total, $201.39.

E. AUGUSTA FANSHAWE, Treasurer, 43 New St.
_December_ 15.

Received books from M. D. L. for Holy Innocent's Ward, St. Mary's Hospital.

* * * * *

Although I am not a little girl, I once was, and feel just like
little girls do about letters going into the scrap-basket. I want
to write a letter to all the little girl or boy readers of YOUNG
PEOPLE who contribute to or take any interest in our Cot. Don't
forget what we are working for, nor be discouraged. Those who live
in the country, or are there in the summer, have, I am sure,
climbed a mountain. Well, when you first started, and looked at the
top, how high it seemed! and, oh! so far off; you wondered if you
ever would get there. A little way up you saw a large oak-tree, and
you made for that, and some way further was a clump of elms. A
little effort brought you there, and as you looked back, you saw
you had accomplished something, and the top was not quite so far
away, and so on to the end of your journey. At the top you gave a
loud hurrah, waving your hat, and felt well repaid. We are climbing
a very high mountain. Three thousand dollars is a real mountain for
small hands and feet to climb: but we don't intend to get
discouraged. We won't look up at the top all the time, only keep it
in mind. We are not very far off now from the oak-tree, and when
there, we can look back and see "something accomplished, something
done," and then keep on until we reach the elms; and then some
little way further will be a short level place in the mountain,
with a little stream and trees, and when we shall reach this and
look back we will find we have gone one-third of our journey, and
feel quite fresh for another start. Who will write me, through the
Post-office Box, the names of these three fresh starting-places?
Only remember we are not _there_ yet, but are going to travel on
steadily, and get there _sure_. Our Treasurer wants to send more
names to the YOUNG PEOPLE. I will look for an answer to my
questions, and hope soon to send you some account of the little
people in our ward. So good-by.

AUNT EDNA.
NEW YORK, 1881.

* * * * *

HIAWATHA, KANSAS.

This is the first year I have taken YOUNG PEOPLE, and I like it
very much. Jimmy Brown is too funny for anything. All of us like
"The Cruise of the 'Ghost,'" the best.

There are three of us children. I am the oldest, and our ages are
six, nine, and ten. My sister and I each have a pony, and we have
fine horse-back rides over the prairies. My little brother is just
learning to ride. My sister is very fond of pets, and has four
cats, and says she is going to have a hospital for sick animals
when she grows up. We send three dollars for the Young People's
Cot--one dollar for each of us.

SUSIE MORRILL.

* * * * *

SAVANNAH, GEORGIA.

I am a little boy seven years old. My uncle has brought me HARPER'S
YOUNG PEOPLE for a long time. I like the stories and letters so
much! I send you twenty-five cents I earned myself for the Young
People's Cot.

HARRY W. B.

* * * * *

BLUEHILL, MAINE.

_Miss E. A. Fanshawe_:

Inclosed please find a Post-office order for $2.10 for Young
People's Cot, St. Mary's Hospital for Children, and accept it as
Maud's gift (in memoriam). My little sister was an invalid for
several years before she died, and I send this money belonging to
her because I know if she had lived she would have been glad to
have aided in the work; and I send it too in the hope that it may
do some little one good, and it may perhaps help some one
afflicted as she was. She enjoyed reading HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE,
and always read the letters in the Post-office Box first.

ALICE A. HOLT.

* * * * *

SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS.

We want to send some money to the Cot. We each send twenty-five
cents. At first we wanted to buy a book, but afterward thought we
had better send it to the Cot now, and wait to buy the book. Emma
was sick for six weeks, and she knows what it is to suffer. We will
send some more as soon as we can save some. We take HARPER'S YOUNG
PEOPLE, and like it very much.

FANNIE and EMMA PEARSON
(aged 9 and 7 years).

* * * * *

PUZZLES FROM YOUNG CONTRIBUTORS.

A great many puzzlers entered into competition for _The History of a Mountain_, by Elisee Reclus, offered in No. 105 as a prize for the best puzzle which should be sent in before December 7, 1881. After careful consideration, the book has been awarded to Miss Ethel J. Stokes, of Richmond, Virginia, for her arithmetical puzzles, which follow this announcement:

No. 1.

ADDITION.

1. Add a poet to a hint, and make to blind.

2. Add an exploit to a personal pronoun, and make a plume.

3. Add a covering for the head, a vowel, and a part of the body, and make a monk of the Order of St. Francis.

4. Add a man's name to a tree, and make islands.

5. Add a grain to congealed water, and make an ornament to a window.

SUBTRACTION.

1. Subtract to perform duties from cautious, and leave a color.

2. Subtract a contest between two states from a timid person, and leave a fish.

3. Subtract to petition from a useful article, and leave a wager.

4. Subtract the first boat ever launched from an emporium, and leave the past participle of meet.

5. Subtract a name for rail-bird from an island in the Arabian Sea, and leave a small bed.

MULTIPLICATION.

1. Multiply an abbreviation by two, and make a near relation.

2. Multiply an adverb by two, and make a doubtful expression.

DIVISION.

1. Divide a farewell by two, and obtain a French pronoun.

2. Divide a monotonous sound by two, and obtain an insect.

3. Divide a table relish by two, and obtain a Chinese name.

4. Divide the rustling of silken robes by two, and obtain three-fourths of a preposition and a vowel.

ETHEL J. STOKES.

* * * * *

No. 2.

CHARADE.

My first is an action common to all,
'Tis done by the great, and done by the small.

My second a measure will proclaim
Known by the world, if not to fame.

My third is a weed that grows in the marsh;
It's sometimes smooth, and sometimes harsh.

But what is my whole, I hear you cry,
The name of a hero, is my reply.

CENT A. PIECE.

* * * * *

No. 3.

ENIGMA.

My first in youth, not in age, you will find.
My second in gather, but not in bind.
My third is in world; though not in sphere.
My fourth is in danger, and also in fear.
My fifth is in grass, but not in fern.
My sixth is in scorch, but not in burn.
My seventh is in wind, but not in blow.
My eighth is in learn, but not in know.
I spread my roots o'er time's great well.
Among gods, among giants, among demons fell.
Mysterious Hinndall 'neath my branches sings
Of the terrible woe Skuld the mist-robed brings.
The tree of the world am I.
Can you my name descry?

NITA.

* * * * *

No. 4.

DIAMOND.

1. A letter. 2. A bar. 3. Relating to a celebrated ancient city. 4. Existing in name. 5. A fop. 6. A negative. 7. A letter.

BOB.

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ANSWERS TO PUZZLES IN No. 111.

No. 1.

S P O R T
T U B E R
A R E N A
R E S T S
T R E S S

No. 2.

Eugene.

No. 3.

M
H O P S
H U R R A S I N
M O R N I N G S I N E W
P R I N T N E W
A N T W
G

No. 4.

Tortoise

Irma's Puzzle--Splinter.

* * * * *

Correct answers to puzzles have been received from Ella Chirney, Elbert E. Hurd, Belle Smith, Grace Fletcher, Arthur P. Grimshaw.

* * * * *

[_For Exchanges, see 2d and 3d pages of cover._]

ENIGMA.

Read forward, I'm a color
Of rather sombre hue;
At least I'm not as brilliant
As scarlet, pink, or blue.

Read backward, I am sometimes used
As synonym for poet;
Now tell me, puzzle-loving girls,
Do any of you know it?

AN EVENING WITH CHARLEY SPARKS.

BY FRANK BELLEW.

The other evening I went to call on my friend Browser. Browser is one of those people who, somehow or another, makes his house exceedingly attractive to young folks. He does not say much nor do much, but seems to enjoy their society in a quiet, comfortable kind of way. Perhaps the attraction to them is that he lets them do as they like. If a lamp shade is broken, or something spilled on the carpet, or a hole burned in the table-cloth, he does not care; he has it repaired, and there's an end on't. The young people run all over the house, capturing materials from the bedrooms to make tableaux, invading the kitchen, pestering the cook, and taking possession of the cold meats in the larder to make little suppers. Even when little Robby Rounder brought some Indian arrows, and fired them into his parlor door, he did not even so much as scold him, but only laughed, and said that if the red men could be made to suffer as much as his doors from the effects of Robby's arrows, they would soon be put an end to. I don't think there is another such house in New York. He holds the opinion that the house was made for his comfort and pleasure, and that he will not make himself a slave to his house.

Well, when I called there the other evening I met a whole bevy of youngsters, including Browser's only daughter, and with them was Charley Sparks, with, as usual, a whole museum of tricks and contraptions. As I entered he was attempting to imitate the song of the canary--at least he said so. I never should have guessed it myself. The sound was more like the song of a conscience-stricken bull-frog than anything else. But he explained that he was only a beginner, and that it required much practice to master the higher branches of this art. When, however, he tried his hand at the pig and the horse, nothing could have been more perfect. There was an oily depth of expression about the grunt which was absolutely perfect. After the pig, he took a little instrument from his mouth (see Fig. 1), and showed it to us. It was simply a piece of the leaf of the leek, from which he had scraped away a semicircle of the soft part, leaving the thin membrane which covers one side intact. This he held against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, and by blowing in the proper way, produced all kinds of sounds. Practice is of course required, but with one of these little things I have heard an expert imitate most exquisitely every bird of the woods.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," said Charley Sparks, "I will give you an imitation of Mr. Punch, of the great English _Punch and Judy_ troupe," and he produced from his pocket a little instrument like this (see Fig. 2). It was made of two pieces of pine-wood, with a piece of tape stretched between them, the whole being bound together with thread wound round and round. This he placed in the back part of the mouth, near the opening of the throat, at a very great risk of choking himself, and forthwith issued from his mouth the funny "Root-a-toot-a-too" of Mr. Punch.

He gave us several of the most stirring passages from the tragedy of _Punch and Judy_, rendering the death-scene of Jack Ketch with such effect as to bring tears (of laughter) to the eyes of every one of the audience.

THE DANCING LESSON.

Keep time, little folks--
One, two, three;
Turn about, twist about,
Whirligee!

Right foot, left foot,
Carefully now;
Turn about, twist about--
Make your bow.

Hark to the music,
Look at me;
Left foot, right foot--
One, two, three;

Turn about, twist about,
You see how;
Keep time, little folks--
Make your bow.

End of Project Gutenberg's Harper's Young People, January 3 1882, by Various